


unprofessional

by dollseyes



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Tier 5, gonna be tier 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollseyes/pseuds/dollseyes
Summary: Owen Green has always gone out of his way to be as professional as possible, whenever possible. Sometimes its not.
Relationships: Mark Bryant/Owen Thompson | Agent Green
Kudos: 8





	unprofessional

It would be unfair to say that Agent Green preferred some of his clients more than others. Because it was patently untrue. It was wrong to show favoritism in professional situations. Even if his colleagues had no qualms with it.

It would also be unfair because there was really only one client that he preferred more than others.

But he was professional enough not to show it.

Until Mark Bryant walked into his office, plopped himself down on his usual chair and said, “I think I need to get a new agent.”

There was nothing professional about the way his heart completely stopped and he barely managed to stop himself from stuttering out pleading requests to not be left behind, promises to do better, to fix whatever he had done wrong.

He was professional as he set his shaking mug back on his desk, counted to five to calm himself, and calmly asked in his best impression of Joan Bright, “And why do you feel that way?”

Mark shrugged, glancing around the room. “I just think this is on its way to becoming too unprofessional.”

Owen’s heart stuttered. He had been  _ discreet _ , hadn’t he? There was no way for Mark to know...to know anything. He hesitated to ask his next question.

“Is-was there any particular event that made you feel this way?”

Mark tilted his head, as if considering it.

“You know, now that I think about it, there was.”

He tapped his chin, but said nothing more.

Owen gripped the handle of his mug too tightly.

“May I ask what it was?”

“Yeah, do you remember our appointment about a month ago?”

Owen remembered all of their appointments. They were seared into his brain on the same wall where he stored Mark’s favorite color and food and the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, really smiled.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Of course, it was the one when we were in the meeting room, the one that overlooked the courtyard, the one I really like.”

Yes, the meeting room that had mysteriously opened the day that Owen’s computer was getting rebuilt and he was kicked out for a couple hours with the promise of his computer history getting lost before anyone knew what he had done.

“I think I know the one, yes.”

“Well you also know how you wanted me to try and test out my range? Like how far away I could be from an atypical to use their powers?”

Owen couldn’t see the connection between the two. He had been careful with his rearrangments. The only powers within thirty feet of their location in the building were ones Mark had agreed were safe, that he could control. A telekinetic, a shapeshifter, a guy who could talk to fish, a girl who shot light out of her hands, that kind of stuff. Nothing dangerous or out of left field. Safe and easy.

“Yes. How is that going?”

“I got up to forty that day.”

“Oh?”

His mind raced. He hadn’t memorized the meetings for every room in the building, he had just learned the relevant ones. He didn’t know what this new range changed. There were too many variables he hadn’t considered, hadn’t thought to consider, and really, he should have. It was his job to consider them, to make certain that Mark felt safe here, felt in control of his abilities and his life. No wonder Mark was considering finding another agent. Owen had obviously misstepped here. But at least he could try to make up for this, to do better in the future.

His mind raced. What could he offer? Secluded sessions? They might be an option, but Owen would need to take more time out of his nonexistent personal life to find room. Then there came the unknown factors of meeting outside the AM. Owen knew exactly what he was dealing with here, knew the ins and outs. He could work around a schedule. There was no telling who might walk by if they went somewhere else. Even passers-by could have dormant abilities just waiting to spring. There was also the implications of meeting one on one offsite. Talk about unprofessional. Rostova would skin him alive if he thought he was having relations with his client. Not to mention the amount that it would physically pain Owen to be in those situations but not in the way he wanted ---not that he wanted that. Because that would be the epitome of unprofessional.

“Yeah, and it turns out, two rooms over, Hansen was doing an intake interview for a new transfer. An empath from the San Francisco office, moved here for grad school.”

Surprisingly, Owen’s mind didn’t race with this new knowledge. Instead it went blank. Completely numb. Crisis mode. But Mark just kept talking.

“And I learned something very interesting to me. I learned that you, Owen Green, do have emotions! Lots of them! Practically pouring out of your every pore. And what a surprise that was to me. To just be hit with this busload of  _ feeling _ .”

Something in Owen’s head screamed the same message over and over.  _ Damage control. _

Damage control. Right. How best could he control this damage? Throw himself out the window? That would solve the problem quite nicely for the moment, but likely would just create more problems in the future. So not that. Surely he should be able to think of something.

_ At least now you know how he feels. _

Right. There was that problem solved by this whole endeavor. Now there was no question whether it was unrequited or not. It obviously was. Why else would Mark ask for a new agent? He was uncomfortable, and rightly so. To be frank, Owen should have had him reassigned the moment he had any inkling of anything.

But he hadn’t.

For a mixture of reasons. He was a coward. He thought he could ignore it and have it go away. He figured it wouldn’t actually come up. But most of all. Even if he was a shit liar, one person he could always convince was himself.

All Owen could do was simply nod and say, “Of course, I completely understand. No one should have to remain in a situation they are uncomfortable with, I step aside and make certain that you are assigned a new agent and that they receive any pertinent information.”

Mark nodded and stood. “Wonderful, thank you Green.”

Owen swallowed and stood as well, making his way toward the door.

“Is that all you needed?”

“Actually I think there is one more thing. Do you want to do Italian or Thai tonight?”

Owen’s mind was still blank.

“I’m sorry I don’t understand.”

“Italian or Thai?”

“What do you mean?”

And then Mark’s lips were on his, and Owen froze, stiff as a board. Because this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It’s some mistake. But then Mark was pulling away and Owen decided he didn’t care if it was real or not. He wanted it, so before Mark could talk again, Owen had a hand balled in his shirt, pulling them back together. One of Mark’s hands went to his waist and the other to the side of his head and he pulled him closer, drowned him deeper, until they both panted for oxygen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get that, was that a vote for Italian or Thai?”

**Author's Note:**

> heyo drop me a line below or find me elsewhere  
> finistfalcon on tumblr  
> finistfalcon#9038 on discord  
> i love to talk


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